Walking on a Wire
by Peach and Apples
Summary: Post E. Adele Hart and her mother are moving to Lincoln City, Oregon, from their home in sunny California to start anew. She expects lots of things new school, new, well...everything. What she doesn't expect is the uncovering of her past...and the Cullens
1. Prologue

_Prologue: All That I've Got _

I took my time packing the rest of my things in the huge box in front of me, scowling at the burly movers that approached. They swerved off for another box as soon as they saw my face. I had to admit, I was a wreck. I'd cried myself to sleep last night and didn't really bother to fix myself, until my mother demanded for me to take a shower. Not that it helped or anything. Honestly, it didn't. I basically just stood underneath the running water for fifteen minutes and walked back out again. I didn't care. It was all so trivial compared to this.

I reluctantly closed the box, glancing around my tiny bedroom, hoping ridiculously for a dust bunny to appear. I'd take the time to pack that, too. Everything was precious. I sighed and plopped myself moodily onto the box, procrastinating. I shied from change. I loved California—the sun, my friends, my school—because it was _familiar_. The _same;_ and now that we were getting kicked out of our apartment…

I picked at the cardboard, frowning at it, and then looked up at the blank white ceiling with another gusty sigh. I loved my mother, not only because she was the woman who raised me, but because she was so innately loveable. She'd gotten pregnant at sixteen and was absurdly protective of me. What did she have to be protective about? I've never had a boyfriend. I've never even _kissed_ a boy. And _they_ certainly have never shown an interest in me. I shook my head in irritation, hopping off the box and proceeding to kick it towards the hallway. It was wonderful, being able to vent off my feelings on an inanimate object.

"Lincoln City shouldn't be so bad," I told myself on a lighter note. My voice sounded small, echoing off the smooth, white walls.

We would be starting over with my aunt, who would make sure that my mother found a stable job, even if she had to keelhaul her sister. I smiled at the thought, which quickly soured as I watched my mother enthusiastically pile in boxes to the movers. She stood in the living room, looking like an air traffic controller, pointing the movers towards the stairs with a pencil and clutching a clipboard to her side. I gave the box a last vicious kick, sending it skidding into the middle of the kitchen floor. My mother beamed as she spotted me, reaching down to heft up the box as I leaned against the wall beside the sink.

"That's the spirit, honey," she encouraged, excitement sparking from her vividly blue eyes.

I felt a pang of shame, but I shoved that right back in the closet along with my good humor. I knew I'd worried her with my crying and moping, but I'd been too self-centered to stop.

"Sure, mom. Really…lovely." I tried for a smile. The attempt must have looked pretty pitiful, since my mother just sighed.

"Kitty," I said sternly. It always hurt when she hurt. I wished I wasn't so empathetic.

"Ducky," she returned, suppressing a smile, warming to our inside banter.

My mother was so young on so many levels, not including her age. Kitty was what she preferred to go by, rather than Katherine. She, however, claimed that 'Ducky' was one step from Adele; nobody else called me that. My official, sometime-pet name was Del, thus named by my far more sensible aunt, the aforesaid Irene.

"I never agreed to that," I muttered.

"Never disagreed either, sweets." She glanced up from the box to take a last, wistful look at the apartment. I felt a small surge of hope well up inside of me. It was illogical, I knew that, but Kitty Hart was stubborn; maybe she could be stubborn enough to fight back for the apartment.

The bubble popped when she turned towards the door and walked out, calling behind, "Adele, could you please leave the keys on the doorknob when you walk out?"

I wondered if I would ever walk out. The silence my mother left behind her was almost palpable in the air. It was as if the very inside of the room was holding its breath, strained. I glared at the innocent keys that rested on the kitchen counter. They suddenly looked positively despicable. No, I wasn't going to touch them. I pushed away from the wall and turned to take another tour of the rooms, when I heard a yell from below, followed by a loud clattering on the floor…or the stairs…

I hesitated at the door to my room, and then glanced from the keys to the door. I felt like a mother abandoning her child; I really did love this apartment. It meant so much to me; so much more than I could ever expect to explain coherently. These walls were the witness to countless joys, sorrows, anger, laughter, betrayal—if they were allowed to speak in this universe, I'd sit on the floor, listening to the greatest bard that ever spoke. And the last thing that it would ever speak of about us is probably pain.

Cursing myself inwardly, I stalked across the apartment and grabbed the keys, pausing at the doorknob to have a last look at the kitchen and adjoining living room. My eyes feasted hungrily on the walls and floor before me.

"Goodbye," I murmured, turning away, hanging the key ring on the knob as I shut the door. I shook my head from side to side as I walked down the stairs, hearing my mother shout that it was okay, never mind it.

An unexpected old resentment surged up again inside me, and I realized with bitter amusement why I'd never had a boyfriend. Men always seemed to run out on the people they were with.

Maybe there was something good about leaving the apartment after all. That was certainly one memory I wanted behind my mother and me.

"_Alice. _Alice._ ALICE!" Bella came over and shook her vigorously, upon seeing her diminutive sister zone out, sitting on the couch fixed with a dazed expression. She watched anxiously as Alice slowly came out of her trance. Her topaz eyes were suspiciously innocent._

"_Bella," she began slowly, "you've got nothing to be worried about."_

_She wasn't buying it. '_Okay, talk. Now, since we're not going to be saying anything out loud.' _She had found her new powers rather useful, especially when it ensured perfect privacy—save for when Edward was around._

_With a sigh, Alice began. '_We're lucky that Edward's hunting, or he'd probably go berserk.'

'Definitely,' _Bella nodded, impatient for her to continue. _'Is it really that bad?'

_Alice hesitated, and rushed on quickly._ 'Really, I'm sure it's absolutely nothing. They could be just doing a routine check-up or something like that. After all, we haven't done anything wrong. Or Aro could just want tidings from—"

_Bella stared at Alice in a mixture of horror and confusion. To her knowledge, the Volturi never did anything without a valid reason. _'We have to tell Carlisle,' _she said flatly._

'Yes. Of course, but Bella, what do _you _think they want?'

_Bella paused, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. She wasn't entirely sure what they could possibly want, aside from wanting to recruit the Cullen family into their coven. She hoped that that reason wasn't it. _

'We'll see.'


	2. Chapter One

_**Disclaimer: **We do not own any of Twilight, New Moon, or Eclipse, everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer. But y'all know that...pointless disclaimers..._

**A/N: **Yeah, yeah, I know. People are dying to see Bella and Edward enter center stage.

**Peach:** WHERE are they. HOW is this girl related to Bella? This is a fanfiction, woman!

**Me [Apple:** I know that. The second question will be answered in THIS chapter. So, go on and do what you have to do. [hint: Read

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_Chapter 1: Arrival_

I was a real sucker for guilt trips, and all through the plane flight, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of loss at leaving home. It wasn't because I didn't want to feel like a bird out of place—I didn't have a tan, sucked at volleyball, and choked on water while attempting to surf. But I did love the feeling of the sand beneath my feet, the homesick calling of the gulls, and the crash and pull of the ocean.

I was Californian to the core.

And I doubted that would be the same as what Oregon had to offer.

In place of the ocean, I'd have forests. I smiled wryly out the window of the Ford Explorer as my cousin maneuvered the vehicle through the rough, forest road. He nodded absently, occasionally responding to my mother's never ending stream of words. She was as hyped up about this whole thing as a three year-old with a king-sized Hershey bar. For the entire duration of the flight from Los Angeles to, well, _here_, she was practically bouncing in her seat. It was both fascinating and horrifying to watch. At least now that we were actually close to our destination, she'd let off some energy.

Closing my eyes, I tried to remember my aunt's house from our last visit…when I was six. They chiefly visited _us_. It was a reasonably sized home, though _far_ larger than ours, with two stories and a front porch that was neatly kept. The neutral beige and deep green accentuated the tall pines that loomed around, suited the cobble-stoned driveway that paved off into concrete as it led to the main road. Hyacinths and Lilies-of-the-Valley spilled at the sides.

What wasn't reasonable about it was that it was built at the foot of the forest.

I yelped as David encountered a particularly large bump and roll, clutching my seat as the car pitched forward. He cursed. My eyes were wide, but I forced myself to take a breath. That seemed _way_ more than a lump of soil. Dave flushed and muttered an apology as he grinned at my mother and me.

"Sorry, Aunt Kit, I—"

"Oh, cursing is practically a teenager's second language, honey. You're driving fine, compared to Adele. But she's got her driver's license, so don't make fun of her!"

"Aw, ma!" I moaned as she slapped the side of his head. Dave craned his head around to peer at me in the back seat. Childishly, I glowered at him until he laughed and turned away. "Watch the road, you idiot!"

"Del, I think I know my own home."

"So what year are you in at high school now?" My mom again.

"I'm a senior, ma'am." His voice was smug.

"Jerk," I muttered under my breath.

As much as I loved David, he could be unbelievably irritating. I winced as he rolled over what felt like branch under tire, and studied his profile. I hadn't seen him for over a year since he had last visited, and he'd grown, filled out, since then. His curly brown hair now reached to just below his earlobe. But his roguishly mischievous hazel eyes were the same, and, I had the feeling, so was his personality. I was only two years younger from his eighteen, but that didn't stop him from babying me. I made a face and turned my attention to outside the window, watching the pine boughs brush against the Explorer.

"Hey, Adele."

"Yes?" I asked absently, still looking out. Whatever he had to say was likely some inconsequential joke or remark.

"We've got a housewarming present back at home."

"Yeah?" I peeked at his gaze in the mirror long enough to see him grin and look back at the road. "What is it?" Likely a prank.

"You'll see."

"Most maddening response ever invented," I mumbled sourly.

"No, really," his tone was unusually earnest. "It's hard to miss."

"And your ego isn't? I think you left half of it back home," I pointed out, and he sighed deeply.

"Please, Adele."

He paused, and I waited expectantly for my mother to break in, cheerily chirping about the weather, or how handsome my cousin had gotten. Unless they'd covered that already? I squirmed as Dave began to mutter something about girls and cats—cattiness, I gathered. Glaring at the rearview, I reminded him, "Your line, Davy, dear, is 'touché'."

His eyes landed briefly on the mirror. "No, that was yours, _Ducky_."

I grimaced at his mocking tone, but saw that he had a completely straight face. It was a good thing, too, because I was tired from the plane flight and wasn't in any mood to argue with him. Tomorrow, we could give it a shot.

"You know…I kind of _hate_ you."

"Thanks, love you, too." He laughed and smiled widely at the mirror as my mother joined in the merriment.

"How much longer?" she asked as I tuned out of the back and forth Question-Answer Olympics again.

I drew my jacket around tighter with a shiver and tilted my head to look out the window, searching for the end of the forest. Taking this direction instead of the main road didn't make any sense. But then again, David wasn't someone who I necessarily expected to have a lot of _sense_, anyway. Last summer he'd dragged his poor girlfriend, Cameron, out to Colorado to go skydiving; it never failed to amaze me how she could put up with him for four years. I mean, _was_ love even enough to keep a relationship strong? I watched the ever darkening sky forlornly. No, evidently it wasn't. I had living, breathing proof sitting shotgun.

Several minutes later, news was reported from the driver's seat.

"God must love me after all! We're home," David announced loudly, smoothly wheeling the Explorer out of the maze of trees and into the backyard. I stared hard at his seat even as he began to whistle merrily. What did he mean by—?

"You took us down a road that you _DIDN'T EVEN KNOW_?" I shouted, straining against my belt. Forget the jet lag—this boy was meant to be strangled.

"Adele, lower your voice." The words tripped out of my mother's mouth almost automatically, her own face showing that she was lost in gazing up at the large house.

"Mother, didn't you hear him?" My eyes narrowed suspiciously when my cousin began choking on his laughter. "You sound like a butchered pig. Don't you ever _dare_ to scare me like that again, David Stevenson!"

I ignored the howls of mirth that followed my retort, and focused determinedly on the colorful flower beds that neatly lined the house.

"Dead pigs don't choke," he chuckled.

"Dead men don't laugh," I replied darkly.

"I know what you're thinking, Del. I'll tell you right now that you'll despise jail far more than you despise me." He carefully parked the car before the closed entrance of the garage before turning to send me a sincere look. I didn't buy it.

"You know what? I really doubt that." I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door.

"And there goes the infamous line from the Heartless Hart. Come on, Adele, I was joking! I knew where we were headed."

Grumbling, I hopped out of the car and grabbed my carry-on, a lumpy duffel bag that had sat drunkenly on the floor of the entire car trip. Just as I shut the door, I heard my mother's bright exclamation of, "You repainted the trim!"

I rapped sharply on the trunk of the car, promptly lifting it upon hearing the desired _click_. Before grabbing my luggage, I surveyed, with a small degree of weariness, the boxes that were piled haphazardly atop each other, jumbled from our…joyride. On an impulse I checked my books, and breathed out upon seeing that everything was intact. With a sigh, I moved it carefully to my left to grab my luggage…

Only to have it lifted away from me.

I scowled at David, who shouldered the bag with barely any difficulty. I held out my hand for the straps. "Give it over."

My answer was a scapegrace grin as he placed the duffel bag's handles into my waiting palm, striding off in the direction of the front yard. I stood, blinking and mystified. Whatever could he be doing walking all the way to the front door, when the back door was only several paces away? My mother was humming as she heaved one of the boxes from beside me. She cast a glance in my direction.

"Adele, the rest of our belongings are going to be transported by a moving van later on," she reminded me, even though I didn't need to be reminded. I already knew.

"Not that mom, he took my luggage." It was a silly argument, but I had to say it anyway. She asked first.

"As well he should," she said absently. "That's what boys are supposed to do. Irene's a wonderful mother, raising such a good boy. Speaking of my sister, go run along into the house and give her a hug."

I was only happy to obey her order. I missed my aunt's good sense and dry humor. I ran out to the front garden, maneuvering myself around a rose bush, and stopped short in shock.

There, sitting on the driveway was a huge, wooden sign with the words, '_Here's Your Own Bucket, Ducks_!' painted in red. But that wasn't what drew my attention. It was what it was propped against that brought the words a whole new meaning.

A car.

Okay, it was David's old Saturn, but still! It was _mine_. They'd even gotten it a new paint job so that the white was almost gleaming. It was a two-door vehicle with a slightly sloping roof, and was precisely perfect in my standards.

"Well?" Aunt Irene appeared from the house, wiping her hands on a dish towel, an expectant smile on her face. "How do you like the old Bucket?"

"'Bucket'? That's its nickname?" I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Only David could come up with such a name. "Can't I just call it a car?"

My aunt came forward from the house, her lips twitching in stifled amusement. "You can, but you'll find that the name has a way of sticking."

"Hmph." I hugged her back tightly. I'd try to stick a new name for it. Something that didn't remind one of their grandfather's old Model T.

"So how are you and your mother coming along?"

"I'm fine. Mom's…mom."

She chortled, "Naturally." She looked over my head. "Here come's Kitty now. Katherine!"

I sidestepped her as my mother came up to chat and catch up. Stroking my new car lightly with one finger, I dashed off into the house. I looked about the hall, taking in the sights that I hadn't seen in years. There was the fichus beside the stairs…the note table…I peeked around the corner to see the keyboard still intact and ready to go. I looked around for David, shrugged, and ran up the stairs to find my room.

Dropping my bags on the floor, I collapsed across the fluffy, white featherbed and shut my eyes, allowing myself to forget everything else but breathing. As much as I felt at home here, it wasn't actually in my concept _of_ home. But I knew I had to get a move on with my life; heaven knew I wouldn't remain in Cali forever.

And besides, I had to be strong for my mother; she was so easily breakable. She couldn't possibly survive without me there to hold her up, to fight away the fears that I knew would kill her had I not been around. She often fondly referred to me as her 'personal secretary', filtering things through before they got to her. I splayed myself spread-eagled across the bed, the coolness of the sheets seeping slowly, comfortingly into my skin. I didn't mind being my mother's protector. I loved my mother; I'd do almost anything for her.

Opening my eyes at hearing a light knock on the walls, I could see my mother's silhouette leaning against the doorway. "Settled in yet, sweets?"

She smiled pointedly at my position, and I quickly sat up, crossing my legs. "Yeah, everything's great, mom. I didn't remember the house being so huge!"

"Yes, it seems that way doesn't it?" A reminiscent look came into her eyes as she lightly rested her head against the wall. "We've been so used to living in a pea pod that we've never experienced a pumpkin." She laughed at her own analogy.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Pumpkins are nice."

Her laughter died and a look of concern spread over her features. "Honey, are you okay? Did I do the right thing?"

"Of course, mom," I rushed, flashing a reassuring grin. "Best parent ever."

A flicker of amusement came and went in her eyes, but she gestured towards the bed. "May I—?"

I quickly scooted back as she came in and carefully sat down on the edge with a small sigh. I leaned forward and rested my chin on my palm while she twisted around to face me. She offered me another smile, but it was different. It was the knowing one she used to catch me out and 'fess up. "Del."

"Mom," I hesitated, glancing up at her eyes. It felt similar to an ant looking up at a scientist with a magnifying glass. I began to fiddle with the lace trimming around the bed sheets.

"You can tell me anything."

I knew that. I've always known that. I also knew that my mother was tenacious, extremely so, when it came to people; especially teenagers. I risked myself another look at her, and let out a long breath.

"Mom," I began again, haltingly. My fingers plucked at the lace harder. "I meant it when I said you were a great mom—the best. I'll always back you up in whatever you choose to do, whether it's right or wrong. And there's always a solution for everything." I repeated back to her the words she told me time and time again as a child.

Her face was in earnest. But not the barest hint of a smile was left, and I wondered if I had said the right thing. I'd meant to be cheering, but I guess it hadn't worked.

"But are you happy?"

The look in her eyes made me want to say that, yes, I was happy. That everything was wonderful, and I knew, instinctively knew that my world was at peace. And that her decision was the best thing that had ever happened to us. But at the same time, I didn't want to lie. I hated lying, to my mom, to anybody. I sucked at it, anyway.

"Not…particularly," I admitted, avoiding her eyes. _Don't be mad; don't be mad, please…_

"You were lying because you want me to be happy," she said.

"Yes."

She paused for a moment. "Because you feel as though you have an obligation to fix…the pieces that your father left."

I didn't answer—couldn't, because I didn't know it myself. And yet a smaller part of me knew that she was right. That smaller part urged me to give her an answer. "I've been doing it ever since I knew how to walk and talk." I tried for a smile, and failed. Pathetic. "No big deal."

She took in a breath and looked out absently towards the window, chewing on her lip. I truly wished we didn't have to have this conversation. Her pain was mine, the curse of a daughter close to an estranged mother.

"Sweetie," she finally said, at length. "You don't need to beat yourself up over your father's absence. It isn't worth it. Adele." She held up a hand upon seeing that I was ready to interrupt. There was a ghost of a smile quivering on her mouth. "Honey, can you let me speak? You know my mind, but you don't know how it is in a mother's heart."

I nodded in consternation, tucking a strand of hair behind my left ear while I waited for her to speak. I'd known she worried, which was chiefly why I did what I did.

She exhaled, and the lines in her face seemed to soften. I never knew how tense my mother was most of the time, how wound up she was. After a second longer, she started. "Adele, I know you think it necessary to worry about me, but that's _my_ job. You're the one who has to be fussed over and protected. You've tried to shield out most of the pain, and as a human being, I am truly grateful for that.

"However, as your mother…as a parent, in a way, I need that pain to make me stronger. To help _me _shield _you_ from the monsters in the world; and believe me, there are plenty of them. And," she squeezed my hand, "it hurts more when you're unhappy. It's a thorn in my foot to know that my baby's crying inside, because then I can't stop it unless she lets me in." I smiled remorsefully at that, but wouldn't allow more. She wasn't finished.

"I know you aren't content with what's been going on around you, and there's no one to blame but me. I watch you, all the time, and I can see how hard it is, how _difficult_ it is, for you to hold yourself together. And that aches. No offense, but Del, you're such a pessimist."

I didn't expect this.

I rolled my eyes. She pinched the inside of my wrist until I squeaked.

"You _are_," she stated firmly. "And that isn't very good."

"Aw, ma!"

"Honey, I'm not asking for anything. But for your sake, and yours only, be more of an _optimist_. I don't want my baby girl to condemn herself to cloudy days and darkness."

I stared at her for a moment and raised my arm to point outside the window.

She sighed in exasperation as she rose and went to the door. "Adele, please. It's hardly my fault that the day is overcast."

"Sure it isn't." I grinned at her and dangled my feet over the bed. I raised my hand and fixed a solemn expression on my face. The mood in here was getting damp, and I knew this little ditty would keep the waterworks back.

"I, Adele Vivienne Hart, solemnly swear upon my life that I will be more of an optimist, to fight off the thunderstorms that threaten to scar my soul, to diminish the shadows, to vanquish the befouled monster that—"

"Alright, alright, the jury buys it." My mother waved it away with an annoyance that was destroyed by the chuckle that escaped her. Then her eyes flicked to something protruding from the corner of my suitcase. She bent to fish it out, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Well, I never thought I'd see this again."

"What?" I leaned over to look at the paper she had in her hand and saw that it was a faded photograph of two girls that could have been sisters. One I recognized was my mom, but the other…

"This was me when I was ten," my mother explained reminiscently. "That over there is my second cousin, Isabella…although I think she went by Bella, I'm not sure anymore. We've only seen each other several times, but she was a sweet girl." She frowned slightly in thought.

I observed the picture curiously. My mother's cousin had a heart-shaped face, different from Kit's oval structure. She also had huge, wondering brown eyes, a direct counterpoint to my mom's excitable blue ones. The only things they had in common by family resemblance were their figures and their posture, as well as the slight tilt of their heads. They were small things to notice, but I noticed them all the same. They both looked to be laughing at something absolutely hysterical.

"Well, your aunt sent me up here to tell you dinner would be ready soon." She strode out the door with the picture, an odd expression on her face. "Dinner should be almost ready by now."

"Okay, mom." I pondered for a moment longer on what she had said as her footsteps receded.

I knew my mother had owned this suitcase before I did, but she was usually so meticulous with keeping her photographs. Her mood had also become abruptly melancholy upon seeing her old cousin. Speaking of Bella, I wondered why I'd never met her before.

I hopped off the bed and knelt to unpack the things from my first suitcase.

"Oy, Ducks!"

_Oh. Ugh, him again. _"What?" I yelled to the doorway.

David's voice echoed loudly from the bottom of the stairwell. Just my luck to have a room placed at the end of the top of the stairs. "There's a letter from the school for you!"

I made an irritated noise in the back of my throat. Of course I received a letter from the school – I _was_ enrolling in it. The way he'd said it would make anyone think the world was on fire. "I'll look at it later, okay!"

Listening for a moment as his footsteps stomped off towards the kitchen, I breathed out a sigh of relief and threw back the cover of my suitcase—

"Adele, dinner!" It was Auntie.

I was really beginning to miss the less chaotic atmosphere of the apartment.

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**A/N: **Well, there you go. As for the first question...wink let's just say that it'll be a real smash when Adele meets the Cullens at school. And then, if you read the prologue, there's the question of "What are the Volturi doing in this story?". I don't know. Ask the characters. Problem is...they speak through me! So my advice: Wait. Read.

Reviews are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter Two

_**Disclaimer: All belongs to Stephenie Meyer. **_

**A/N:** Ahem...Right then. This chapter is dedicated to my betas: Peach and B.B, who are both two of the most awesome people I know. It's also the chapter where the **Cullens** make their appearance! Enjoy.

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_Chapter 2: Life is Wonderful…Right_

_It hurt to breathe. _

_The hall surrounding me was tastefully done, with a high, vaulting ceiling that bespoke of Italian descent. But it was dark, and not in the literal sense. Even the lingering sweet scent was sinister. Voices kept whispering around the room—greedy, wary, hollow with hunger; and then there were bright, red lights that kept popping out around the room, always in pairs, always flashing black…echoing the sounds of their voices. And then…realization slowly hit that the lights were eyes. A scream reverberated from an adjacent room…_

"First day of school, sweetie!" an overloud, cheery voice dissolved the scene at once, and I rolled over with a moan. I felt a crick in my neck, and my dream—or was it?—flashed vividly before my eyes, as frightening as ever. And then it began to fade.

"Aw, crap!" Irrationally, I wanted to keep it. It was oddly…interesting, in a way. And if I had to be put away in some bull institution to keep it, then give me cash and send me off.

"Up you get."

Unceremoniously, the covers were pulled off me, and I was forced to get up from the warmth and comfort of my bed. I blinked up at my aunt, feeling stoned, even as she beamed into my face.

"Aren't you excited?" she asked, pulling me up and ushering me into the restroom.

"No. Where's mom? And Dave?" I yawned, restraining her from pushing me further from the room. I held up a finger to assure her that I wasn't going to burrow under the covers again, and dove into my closet for something to wear—if you can call diving as walking sluggishly and staring at the hangers like one lost.

"Your mother's in the garage picking through what the movers hauled in. David left at five for football. Okay, have you got everything? Yes? Good. Off you go! Do whatever you need to do, grab a banana, and run along to class. I'll be leaving for work soon, Adele; I trust that you can handle things by yourself."

I fully woke up under her rush of words, although a second too late, as the bathroom door closed behind my oblivious back. I'd forgotten that David had football…if the Saturn ever broke down, I'd have to wake up two hours early to catch a ride for school. Grumbling at that prospect, I started on the first thing listed by my aunt.

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Forty _long_ minutes later, I was barreling down the stairs in a mad rush. My original plans consisted of driving to Lincoln High in a leisurely manner, and then taking a tour around the campus. Obviously today, I was going to do neither. I paused by the hall mirror and breathed out a sigh of relief at my reflection. My face was lightly flushed from charging around the house, and my green eyes gazed out at me brightly. It was a good thing that I wasn't someone who obsessed over their looks—else I'd probably be sobbing in utter despair by now. To me, appearances didn't particularly matter, and while I couldn't declare myself "perfect" (as in _my_ definition of it) I could declare myself presentable. No frizz, no tell-tale fabric hanging out from the corner of my clothes. But just as I reached out to twist the front door, my stomach released a loud, protesting growl.

"All right," I muttered, dashing into the kitchen. I grabbed a banana from the basket on the counter, pelted back to the door, slung my bag over my back, and let myself out.

A crisp, cool breeze greeted me as I stepped briskly down from the raised porch, but I had no time for pleasantries this morning. I hastened to yell out a goodbye to my mother as I ran to my car, not bothering to listen to her reply as I shut the door. Leaning into the headrest for a short break, I gathered my scattered thoughts. A wry smile unfolded over my face. _I seriously need to relax_, I thought to myself, rousing myself from the silence and reaching out for my key, sticking it into the ignition—

The key. _Where was my key?! _

I moaned, casting about desperately for it. If I left it in the house…but nobody even _gave_ me a key from the night before! How the heck was I supposed to drive this thing? Settling back into my seat bleakly, a sparkle from the limited sunlight was caught by my periphery.

Laughing in relief, I plucked the key from where its metal ring was slung around the clutch and stuck it into the ignition. I put the car into drive, checked my mirrors, and started to back out of the driveway, out into the asphalt. Now I understood precisely why stress was a killer—it blinded you from the obvious. Shaking my head over the steering wheel, I forced myself to focus on my only problem now: arriving at school on time. The high school had graciously provided directions and a map in their letter. It was a good thing that I had a photographic memory, or I'd probably be driving around with a both stuck under my nose. I frowned in concentration as I paused at the stop sign. _Now, turn left from here…_

I checked the street sign hopefully and allowed a grin to spread over my face upon seeing that so far, everything was good. Normally, elated people did something to celebrate, like, let's say, put on the radio. But I had the crippling habit of getting slightly nervous and wary when I'm elated. Besides, I was new at driving, and I couldn't afford any distractions. _At the next light, turn right, _a small voice in the back of my mind instructed. I obeyed; I needed all the help I could get.

I drummed my fingers against the wheel while waiting for the signal to pass and began to observe the scene around me. People milled around in the shops lining the avenue, some lugging groceries, shopping bags, or both; others were lucky enough to deal with that, and the burden of kids too young to enter school yet. It was funny how everything could be so normal. Funny how normal could come even into one of the most bizarre moments of my life—driving to school in Oregon, no less, and living off relatives. It was never something I ever had to do. Now, if something completely uncalled for happened, I might just forgive life and its cruel little games. I glanced up to see that the light had flashed to green and started to accelerate.

And then…

I hated it when my thoughts became prophetic—it made me have one of those teenage moments when I thought everything and everyone was against me.

It had all happened so fast. The speed of it would have taken my breath away, if I had any breath left to breathe. Panic, instinctive and natural, strangled my heart. I tried to move among the wreckage of the car, but found that pain lanced across every inch of my body, even when all I attempted was to move my finger. People were calling out agitatedly, "Someone get an ambulance!" and basically causing the nuisance every accident calls for. I fought to open my eyes, at the very least, but everything was flooded in such a bright light that I felt I was nearly blinded. Closing them again, I heard a barely coherent whimper, a muted sound in the back of my pounding head.

It took me a second to realize that the sound had come from _me_. Maybe I'd died. If I did, then I was prepared to write a letter of apology that one of God's angels could deliver to my mother, somehow.

"Are you all right?" a musical voice asked tensely.

My already strangled heart jumped away from the voice; a voice so pure couldn't, _shouldn't_ exist on earth. That should prove that I was already dead. I struggled to open my eyes to bolster up my hypothesis, and found myself greeted by an angel. His skin was as white as alabaster, with oddly sparkling chestnut hair. It took me a second to realize that his head was littered with powdered glass. His eyes were a dark, gold color that was ever so slightly anxious, with an undercurrent of something close to wariness.

Now I was convinced that I was dead.

I smiled faintly, puzzled by why it hurt. I was dead…there shouldn't be any pain.

"I'm okay." I shifted my position to show that I was, indeed, okay, but instead only caused the blood from my arm to flow freely. A shard of glass was embedded in it. "Shoot," I muttered.

What happened next was totally unexpected.

In barely a fraction of a second, the angel was back at his smashed car, standing next to several more totally ethereal figures, looking horrified. He was saying something in a quick voice. His head turned once in my direction, and his eyes, once gold, had become pitch black. In spite of myself, I was resentful. Why? Well, because I'd needlessly caused some angelic, otherworldly being distress from my pain. I shut my eyes. Reassessing his face in my mind, I saw that his expression was closer to revulsion than agony.

A pang of righteous anger surged up in me, and, with an inward groan, I cautiously shifted my body to get out of the car.

_I've certainly kicked the Bucket, now,_ I thought remorsefully to myself, briefly observing the wreckage around me. David had wasted his money on a person who received her driver's license from sheer, dumb luck. My breath hissed out as I slowly rose and began to walk off down the road to the sidewalk, where several men in uniform were holding off the excitable and anxious crowd; there had to be _some_ place where these irritating injuries could get taken care of properly. I wasn't precisely sure what to believe now.

"Wait!"

I continued to shuffle my way determinedly off the main road, pushing aside people impatiently to get through and waving off their offers of help. Nevertheless, I glanced behind to see a tiny… fairy-like being walking towards me, her face guarded but earnest all the same. It was peculiar how all these angels seemed to have those same, golden eyes, but what did I know about them, anyway? My neck muscles felt jammed, so I set my sights forward again.

"Where are you going?" The tiny angel asked me, alarmed and rather amused. A bit more amused than an angel of Heaven should be. Maybe I'd found my way to Hell, instead.

I gritted my teeth against the pulsing in my thigh, and paused mid-hobble. "Well," I began, with careful precision. "I'm going to go negotiate with God why I'm in Hell instead of Heaven. Then, I'm going to find some mystical, ghostly way to tell my mother that I'm dead."

The angel rolled her eyes, and continued to follow me at my elbow. Her hand was poised before her nose, as though I smelled bad—which I probably did, based on the circumstances. My scent doubtless rivaled that of a dead cow. "You're not in Heaven _or_ Hell."

"Then I'm in-between. Probably on my way to the devil, aren't I?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because, one, I'm feeling horrible, horrible pain. And two, you angels aren't doing anything to help me. Therefore, I assume you're angel outcasts, or disciples of the prince of darkness." Pleased with my logic, I continued limping my way along the side of the road. It was odd, but everything seemed so much like earth, or rather, Oregon. Normal.

The angelic creature muttered something under her breath that was too fast for me to understand. "Adele, you're completely absurd," she finally stated. "And we _are_ going to help you, for everybody's sake. The one who crashed into your car was my brother, Ethan, who is very apologetic, by the way." Her eyes narrowed at thoughts I probably didn't want to hear.

"How did you—" I stopped and shook my head, allowing her to steer me the other way around. Angels just knew things…like names. How could I forget?

"My name's Alice," she supplied brightly. Her spiked, inky hair stuck around in all directions.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my father, Carlisle—to God," she added with a touch of exasperation.

Interesting. I hadn't any idea that He had a specific name. We hurried back to where the rest of Them were filling several people who _looked_ like policemen on the events. Alice's brother Ethan stood off to the side, seeming to be enduring a scolding from a tall, statuesque blonde whose beautiful features were twisted in fury. As we passed, his jaw clenched in restraint and he looked away. I wondered what exactly was wrong with me. Alice ordered me to sit, handing me a damp tea towel to clean off the blood. I could be dead, but then again, that wasn't anything "wrong" in its own sense. Wincing as my fingers brushed against the shard of glass, I set the towel down and looked up to see Alice conversing in low tones with someone—female, as the voice connoted.

"Alice?" It was much too early for fatigue, but here it was, settling down anyway.

Another face bent down to look at me eye-level; her expression was kind. Brown hair framed a heart-shaped face that was vaguely familiar, a familiarity that I did not care to understand at the moment. "Shush, you're fine. Rest," she murmured soothingly.

I nodded at her, and the last things I heard before succumbing to the soft, silky feel of sleep were the piercing sirens of police cars, and a new voice: male, smooth, and edgy.

"How much does she know?"

* * *

**A/N: **Well, isn't Adele lucky, getting her dearest cousin's car totalled on her way to school. Hey, at least now she gets to miss the dreaded first day! Not to mention whatever hopes the student body had in meeting her...

Does that last voice seem familiar to you? Here's a hint to slow minds: You LOVE him. Any clearer yet?


End file.
